Omake from a Hotel Night
by DezoPenguin
Summary: Running a hotel is difficult. Running a hotel when Eternal Night threatens to descend (or just wants more towels for the bath) can be positively frazzling. But Simon, Camilla, Kaede, and their assorted friends are mostly up to the task. A selection of random omake, humor fics, and vignettes from Nights of Azure I and II alike!
1. There Are Unlikelier Conspiracy Theories

The days on Ruswal Island were quiet lately, and Simon liked it that way. The ex-Agent of the Curia had had his fill of excitement in his youth, and he much preferred the peaceful times that had prevailed since the threat of the Nightlord's return had ended.

Of course, that peace was a relative thing. The Blue Blood still permeated the world, and fiends were still a threat to humanity as their natures drove them. The Curia, too, had been caught up in chaos as its upper structure had collapsed. The late Pope Ludegert had kept an iron grip on the reins of power, so as to better use the Curia to serve her own agenda, and her mysterious disappearance (rather less mysterious to those who'd been caught up in the events of a year ago) had left a gaping void in the power structure that there had been a rush to fill. Just how much she had kept out of the hands of her so-called senior advisors had been revealed when entire branches of the organization had come forth that other branches hadn't even known existed.

Simon had gotten a number of calls from the various self-proclaimed candidates for leadership, seeking his aid or his insight, but he'd demurred to them all. He liked his quiet existence on Ruswal, maintaining the excellence of the Hotel Ende. And if Ruswal was a bit too close to Eternal Night these days, well, the plain fact of it was that he had better tolerance for the directness of demons' passions than for the twisted connivances of human authority.

That said, he didn't expect for one to come calling, particularly when he was taking out a bag of garbage behind the hotel kitchen.

"Good evening, Mr. Manager," caroled a childish voice from above him. Simon snapped his gaze up and around. His skills had ebbed somewhat since his days in the field, but he hadn't thought a creature of the Blue Blood could so easily get that close to him.

"Or should I say, good evening, Mr. Curia Agent." This time the voice was lower, steadier...and came from ground level behind him.

The slightly built girl in blue, wearing a half-mask decorated in angel feathers, walked past him.

"Christophorus," Simon said.

"You remember me!" She clapped her hands and pirouetted.

"I would be a poor hotelier if I didn't remember our only pureblood demon guest."

Christophorus turned to face him. Her mask was black now, crowned by tiny devil horns.

"Hardly the only one. After all, She stayed there for quite some time, and then there was...oh, but that isn't something you ever knew, is it?"

"If I don't know, would I be able to tell you that I don't know?"

Chris giggled.

"Well, I should hope so!"

Her voice leveled out from the laugh, mask switching once again.

"After all, I've come here to ask you a question, Mr. Curia Agent."

"If so, then you may be disappointed. I've retired from the Curia."

"Don't they own this hotel? You'd have to work for them in that case."

He smiled thinly.

"I think they own it, but in truth they've had quite a time trying to figure out exactly how they do. It seems that the late Pope Ludegert set up a series of shell companies to disguise the Curia's interest in the Hotel Ende from local authority, and no one can quite trace back exactly where the top of the chain reaches. It's a tower of interconnected businesses vanishing into the clouds as it were, its top as good as hiding up with the First Saint."

Christophorus's eyes narrowed behind her devil mask.

"That sounds very much like you know most of what really happened last year."

She laughed and clapped her hands again.

"Which is good, because you'll be able to answer my question!"

"Providing information to guests is one of the duties of a hotel manager," Simon noted.

"Well then, you certainly remember last month, when that girl came back to Ruswal."

"You mean Lilysse, I assume?"

"I do! The one who She loves beyond anyone else...but not, I think, beyond all measure, for She was too selfish to send her away again."

Simon smiled.

"I had a feeling that something like that happened, when she disappeared again almost as soon as she'd arrived. I'm happy that they found each other again."

"But why are you happy, is the question?" Chris's voice was pointed.

He blinked.

"I'm not sure that I understand your meaning."

"Then, an example might be needed! Ta-da!" She spun and bowed, and extended a covered silver serving tray towards him. He didn't spend too much time on trying to figure out where she'd been keeping it. She plucked the lid off with a flourish, revealing six...

...well, they were vaguely cupcake-shaped, but actually implying that they were edible would have been an insult to starving people everywhere.

"She really hasn't gotten any better, has she," Simon concluded.

"Now tell me, Mr. Curia Agent, did your organization deliberately send their former priestess back to Ruswal, knowing that she would seek to be reunited with the Nightlord, so that her poisonous touch could innocently wreak the final destruction of Eternal Night?"


	2. This'll Cost Their Five-Star Rating

People came back to Eurulm for a wide variety of reasons.

Some came for power. Before the city's fall it had been the center of authority, influence, and culture in the region, and the Curia and the politicians alike flocked back to it for fear that their rivals would establish a new power base using its natural advantages if they stayed away. Likewise, merchants and traders moved swiftly to seize the opportunities presented by the freed city.

Some came for pride. The Ariarhod family, for example, had vowed that they would never abandon their traditional home, and given their daughter's role in supporting the "Hero of Eurulm" in ridding the fallen capital of fiendish control, it was only natural that they would return and reoccupy their old estates, no matter the trouble and expense it would take to rebuild their home.

Some came for hope. It wasn't only those displaced by the original flight from the fiends that flocked to Eurulm. There was work to be done in the reclamation, still more opportunity to be found in the needs of the new settlement. A fresh start, a fresh life, meant everything to some people, and with unflagging spirit they seized the chance with both hands.

And some came from simple curiosity.

After all, the power to freeze time was not the power to undo past events. The Eurulm region remained locked in Eternal Night, the Azure Moon shining brightly for those who could see it. There was a novelty to it, a city where the sun never rose, where the "nightlife" went on for twenty-four hours each day.

Charles and Margaret Adcock were among that last group. They were tourists from England, there to catch the leading wave of excitement, a bit of the truly unusual. As Margaret's sister-in-law had said, "Ruswal Island is _so_ last season. Simply _everybody_ is talking about Eurulm this year." And off they went, making their reservations at the famous Hotel Eterna.

"Oh, my," Margaret sighed in surprised appreciation when they walked inside. They hadn't known exactly what to expect—after all, when fiends overrun a city and spent the better part of five years making it their own, how much could one really expect so soon? But the Hotel Eterna was in the finest style of Continental luxury, lamplight glowing from polished brass and parquet, highlighting marble fittings, exquisite woodwork, and green plants.

"Not bad, not bad," her husband agreed. "It's not a patch on the Savoy, of course, but still very fine indeed."

The right-hand side of the lobby appeared to be given over to a café, where several people were seated at the bar and sipping from steaming china cups, so the Adcocks went left, to the elaborate front desk.

"Welcome to the Hotel Eterna. May I be of service?"

Some hotel receptionists are polite, efficient gentlemen in dark suits and white gloves. Others are equally efficient and personable ladies. But this was the first time the Adcocks had encountered a hotel receptionist who was a doll.

Literally.

She was a kimono-clad Japanese doll, about two feet tall. One would have thought this might present a problem for her to see over the reception desk, but she got around that difficulty by floating in midair, because why limit oneself to breaking just one law of natural reality?

Charles Adcock did the classic British "stiff upper lip" tradition proud by not boggling at her in surprise.

"Y-yes," he said. "We have a reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Adcock."

"Of course. A suite for two, one week. We have Suite Seven reserved for you, although if you have any objection to that number we would be happy to accommodate you."

It was uncanny, the way her articulated mouth didn't quite match up with the words; since her lips were fixed it made things seem just out of balance.

Well, _more_ uncanny, since, well, she was a talking doll.

Margaret was all but bursting with curiosity to ask the doll who—and more significantly, _what_ —she was, but she swallowed her eagerness.

"That will be fine, miss."

"I presume that your maid and valet will be along with your luggage? We'll have that brought up for you at once. The shikigami will show you to your room. Please take full advantage of all of our facilities during your stay, and if you have any questions do not hesitate to ask one of the staff." She bowed, the gesture elegant despite the way in which she drifted slightly in the air as if floating on hidden currents.

"The…shikigami?" Charles asked, wondering if that was Japanese for bellhop. He was quickly proven wrong.

"Right this way, sir, ma'am!"

The Adcocks turned at the sound of the high-pitched voice, only to discover that it was coming from what looked like a child's paper doll, plain white in color with some kind of symbols or characters scrawled down its front in a garish, almost ominous red.

The fact that it, too, was floating at about chest level was almost an afterthought on the surprise scale that that point.

Fortunately for the guests, any embarrassing shock they might have displayed was cut off by a deep, muffled boom from somewhere beyond the wall behind the desk. Apparently this was _not_ part of the usual state of the hotel, because both the living doll and the shikigami spun around as well. Around ten seconds later, a door to the right of the desk was flung open, and a woman with long green hair staggered out, surrounded by billows of smoke. She slammed the door shut, cutting off the flow of inky black clouds, and coughed twice.

"Dr. Camilla, are you all right?" the desk clerk exclaimed.

The woman plucked the pince-nez monocle off the bridge of her nose and wiped it vigorously with a handkerchief.

"Yes; the containment and fire-suppression devices worked, but that one workbench and an entire shelf of chemicals were totaled. It's going to take hours to get everything cleaned up and put to rights."

The shikigami openly sagged at this announcement.

"I'm going to go take a bath," the woman continued. "Kaede, once you've seen to any guests, call up Gianni Alchemical and Chemical Supply and let them know I'm going to be over in two hours for a discussion on the purity of their reagents."

"Yes, Doctor. Do you think they were cheating you or just careless?"

The woman set her monocle back into place.

"That will be one of the key points of discussion." She spun on her heel and stormed towards the gilt-fronted elevator at the rear of the lobby.

The Adcocks glanced at one another. The doll receptionist had called the woman "Dr. Camilla." Given the Curia's habit of affixing titles to people's personal names instead of their surnames, the woman might have been Dr. Camilla _Alucard_ , the Hero of Eurulm herself! She was definitely not as they had imagined her. If they'd had any expectation at all, it was of a holy knight like the First Saint, elegant and resolute, with a purity of soul and a shining sword.

Charles supposed that shining swords and pure spirits weren't all that useful towards successful hotel management, but even so, it was still a little lowering.

"Right this way, sir, ma'am," the shikigami invited. They followed as it bobbed along through the air, taking them to the elevator in Dr. Camilla's wake, but rather than waiting for the lift it instead went to the right, up another short flight of stairs to a door off the side of the lobby. This led to a long hallway of doors, room numbers marked with gilt lettering.

"You'll find a complete list of all the amenities we offer to our guests on the writing-desk in your suite," it chirped happily, unaware or uncaring of the curious looks directed at it from behind, "but like Kaede said, if you have any requests at all, don't hesitate to ask any of the staff for assistance. The front desk is manned day and night, and you can ring at any hour."

"Are all of the staff like…like you?"

"Most of us are," it said. "We shikigami don't sleep, so we can devote our attention to the guests' needs. And if I'm helping you, then I can get out of pool maintenance duty!" It gave a little shudder. "Water is our mortal enemy, after all. Oh! But you won't tell Miss Kaede that I said that, will you?"

"So there are no humans at all running this hotel, just you…creatures?" Margaret asked, deciding that its question had been rhetorical.

"Dr. Camilla is human, of course. And Miss Eleanor, the chocolatier. We're the exclusive purveyor of her creations, available at the lobby bar."

"I see."

"And here is your suite, number seven. Please enjoy your stay!"

The shikigami opened the door for them and floated aside. The suite was every bit as elaborate and well-outfitted as the lobby: from the polished wood to the thick, ornate carpeting, to the brass fittings, it was like being bathed in warm amber light, an even more pleasant and relaxing sensation given the constant nightscape outside the huge bow window. Surprisingly, there was even a large potted plant to lend a refreshing touch of green. Charles didn't quite know how that worked without sunlight, but supposed that Dr. Camilla had some scientific trick to explain it.

A low, rumbling noise seemed to come from the direction of the bedroom, though, disturbing the otherwise pristine initial impression.

"Is that…is that _snoring_?" Margaret asked.

"I say, if there's some lazy servant taking a nap on the bed, I will be having words with the management," her husband said.

"But the shikigami just told us that that they don't sleep, and that there isn't any human staff."

Charles was already in motion, though, storming into the bedroom to vent righteous wrath on the…nothing whatsoever marring the immaculately made bed.

"There's nobody in here."

"Yes, dear, like I just told you."

"And come to think of it," he said, looking around, "the sound seems to be coming from back this way."

The two of them both moved towards where they thought the sound seemed to emanate and ended up meeting on opposite sides of the plant.

"It's coming from…here?"

"What kind of plant is this, anyway, Margaret?"

"I don't know; I don't recall seeing anything like it before. This red flower on top is pretty, but I don't recognize its pattern."

"Well, I've certainly never heard of a flowering plant that makes noise. One expects certain exotic flora when abroad, but how can a person be expected to rest properly when a potted plant is snoring at him, I ask you?"

Perhaps the plant took his objection to heart, for just then it opened its eyes and yawned, then said something. The words were completely unintelligible, resembling neither English, French, nor German, but the tone of voice was unmistakably the muddled, blurry sound of someone who has just woken up.

"A plant fiend!" Margaret screamed.

The plant's eyes shot wide open in sudden alert as the Adcocks bolted for the door. A shower of light burst from the plant, suffusing the English couple in a pink haze of energy. The field was a spiritual barrier to protect their bodies from physical harm, which came in handy when, startled even more by its manifestation, the Adcocks stumbled into one another, bounced off the doorjamb, and crashed through an occasional table on their way to the floor.

"Where's the fiend?" Feuille cried, unfortunately continuing in a language only those with the Blue Blood could comprehend.

"I think they meant you," the shikigami said.

"Oh." The excitement quickly passing, Feuille yawned again. "Here I thought being a houseplant was a job where I could nap in peace. I hope Kaede doesn't get too mad at me."

The shikigami assumed a thoughtful pose.

"Well," it concluded, "I suppose it can't be worse than the time Alice got fed up with that one rude guest and gave him his morning wake-up call by having her rabbits play 'Reveille' on their horns next to his bed."


	3. Never Leave It to Personal Taste

**Omake Week 2019, Day 5:** _Omake Week greets a new entrant this year, with_ Nights of Azure' _s first appearance in the lists. Meaning that_ Phantasy Star _no longer has to be the least popular included fandom (_ GrimGrimoire _must be feeling positively viral by comparison!). But I really love NoA's story, world, characters, music, and canon yuri relationships. So while I continue quietly hammering away at the two novel-length fics featuring my choice for Best Game Character of 2017, Camilla Alucard, instead we get Arnice and Lilysse and a happy couple omake!_

~X X X~

"Well," Simon asked, "what do you think, Miss Arnice?"

"Hmmmm…"

The two of them stood next to one another on the arched landing above and behind the main desk of the Hotel Ende. The wall in front of them was blank and, Arnice had to agree, more than a little boring. The problem was, she didn't really see what _she_ could do about it.

"I don't really understand a lot about these things, you know?" She scratched her head. "I mean, agents of the Curia don't exactly get formal training in art appreciation or something."

"I'm only asking for your opinion, Miss Arnice. There's no need to treat it as if it were a quest you could fail."

Usually, Simon was pretty good at putting his guests at ease, Arnice thought, but this time his efforts weren't quite taking. Probably it was because the handsome hotel manager in his immaculate, crisply-pressed dark suit and white gloves, presented such an impression of elegance, of the kind of service that nobles, ministers, and captains of industry expected as a matter of course, that she just felt out of her depth next to him.

"I guess some sort of landscape might be good?" she ventured hesitantly. "It might be kind of relaxing, you know? Green forest and grass, blue sky and water, it'd lighten up all the dark paneling around here…maybe?"

Simon nodded.

"I'll see to it at once, Miss Arnice. Thank you for all of your assistance."

He gave a little bow, then swiftly retreated to his office, doubtless to make the necessary order. Arnice let out a heavy sigh, letting her shoulders sag forward. _Was that some kind of test?_ she wondered. _And if so, did I pass?_

After all that, she decided that she needed a pick-me-up, so she descended the stairs and crossed the hotel lobby to the bar and café, her boot-heels clicking off the polished floor. Moments after she dropped heavily into a chair, a maid approached, bearing a steaming cup of hot chocolate. It was a mark of excellent service, but this wasn't really a case of a five-star hotel anticipating its customer's needs. Rather, it was entirely personal.

"Thanks, Lilysse," Arnice said, smiling up at the girl who meant more to her than anything in the world.

"You looked like you could use that."

"That's the truth." She picked up the cup and saucer and let the sweet flavor trickle over her tongue with the first sip. Chocolate helped to take the edge off the vampiric urges that plagued her as a half-demon, but the plain fact was that she'd have consumed just as much of the stuff on account of its taste alone.

"What's the matter, then, Arnice? Did Simon have some bad news from the Curia?"

"What? Oh, oh no, it's nothing like that."

Lilysse let out a sigh.

"That's a relief, at least. They really ask too much of you as an agent."

Arnice clenched her fist on the table.

"Compared to what they're demanding from _you_ , anything they want me to do is meaningless."

"Arnice…"

"I know, you don't want me to keep talking about it, but it's so absurd. Why should you—"

" _Arnice_ ," Lilysse cut her off firmly. "Do you really think I could live with myself if I sent you, or Simon, or _anyone_ to be sacrificed in my place?"

"I know." She reached out and squeezed Lilysse's hand. "It's part of what makes you who you are, why I have to find a way to save you, even if it means defeating the Nightlord with my own hands."

Lilysse gave a heavy sigh.

"I don't want to talk about this right now. Besides, you never said what it was that Simon wanted from you."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't. You see that bare spot on the wall over where we were talking?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, Simon wants to put a painting there, to fill up the space."

"Oh, that's a good idea. It does look kind of bland and empty, and it's not like the arena downstairs that _has_ to be kept bare on account of collateral damage."

"Right, but get this: Simon wanted _my_ opinion as to what to put there! I mean, what do I know about art?" Frankly, Lilysse in her low-cut maid's outfit was the epitome of what Arnice considered aesthetic beauty. "Do you remember back at the academy?"

Lilysse nodded.

"You never were very good in our art classes."

"And Simon's this super-elegant guy, too. I mean, he knows all that stuff, what wine goes with what meat, what's fashionable before or after which holiday, how to address Lady Amelia Leconbury and why that's different from Amelia, Lady Leconbury, which fork to use with the soup, all that stuff."

"Hmm." Lilysse looked up, pressing her finger to her full lower lip in a "thinking" pose Arnice found ridiculously cute. "That's true, but…last week when I was looking for a mop to clean up after a batch of cupcakes that nearly got aw—I mean, when I was cleaning the kitchen—I opened what I thought was a utility closet and instead found a storage room. There were a whole stack of paintings there, wrapped up. Only, the strange thing is, they were all painted on black velvet, and every one of them was of a group of dogs sitting around a table playing cards."

~X X X~

 _A/N: I've always wondered what the point of those little sidequests was, besides personalizing the décor. The curious might be interested to know, too, that neither black velvet paintings nor "Dogs Playing Poker" are anachronistic, either!_


End file.
